Off Limits
by dayuuuumgirl
Summary: After failing Biology, Jace is forced to attend the Institute, a special academy for the mentally retarded.  There he meets his tutor, Clary Fray, who is absolutely 100 percent off limits.
1. Chapter 1

**This story popped into my head when I was in the shower. LOL**

**Hope you like it!**

**Jace**

A paper fluttered onto my desk as Mr. Starkweather passed back our latest biology test. A big fat F was scrawled in red on the very top with a demand for a signature. Typical.

I was failing biology. And not an Asian fail either. My test average was a 48% and my grand total for homework was about five out of the bazillion assignments we had been given.

But hey, who could blame you when you have an abuse father at home who beats you and your mom to a pulp as a sport?

It's not cause I'm dumb either. I'm plenty smart when I actually bother to try. Like football. I'm the star quarterback for my team, the Warriors. I've lead them to championship every year, and because of that, Brown has already drafted me for college admission.

So who the hell would care about passing AP Biology when colleges were vying for you?

I thought this would blow over like every other time, so I messily scribbled a name on the signature line and stuffed it in my backpack for tomorrow.

Oh no, it wasn't like before.

As I was pushing my way out the door, Mr. Starkweather called, "Jace, could I see you for a minute?"

I headed back. "Yeah?"

"About your grade…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll do better next time."

Starkweather sighed. "You've been pulling this crap every time, and your grade is stooping lower and lower."

Blame it on my dad. "I got it. I'll raise it."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If you don't pull this off, Jace, Brown won't accept you. Or any other school. They don't admit failing students, no matter how good of a football player they are."

Fuck. "Okay, then…"

Starkweather scratched his chin. "There's a tutoring school nearby called The Institute. I want you to go."

"The Institute?" I blurted. "That's for the mental retards!"

"You've got two months til grad. I'm on your side, buddy." He gave me the shoulder nudge. Creepy, since he's a close-to-fifty-year-old grandpa.

So that, my friend, is the sad story of how I ended up on Saturday morning with a group of disgusting, chromosome-mutated (see? I do pay attention in bio) kids who had idiotic grins plastered on their faces. As if they didn't know that this place was a living hell.

Oh, don't be fooled into thinking that my dad willingly let me go. He refused, until Starkweather told him that Brown wouldn't accept me. I could practically see the tiny gears clicking in his head. No college admission = No NFL = No money = No alcohol.

Go figure.

For the first time in my life, I had been hoping that my dad was on my side. Obviously not, since I was sitting here in the Institute. Man, if the guys saw me here, I'd be screwed.

The tutors here all repulse me. I mean, sure, like two out of the thirty were around my age, but the rest of them…wow. I swear, who wears bell bottoms these days? Do they think their Elvis Presley or something?

The two my age were chatting quietly together. One was a guy with glasses, wearing a _Game On_ tshirt and looking real nerdy. His friend, though, was a different story. She was a pretty redhead with lively emerald eyes. Petite. She held a sketchpad in one hand, kinda like an artist. Maybe I could swing her, and get a passing grade in this.

I silently prayed to whatever-was-up-there to get me that girl. Someone must have been listening, because a second later, the principal, Mrs. Branwell, was calling, "Jace Wayland to Room 24 with Clary Fray."

So the redhead was called Clary. Nice name.

She was already in the room when I arrived. Giving me a tight smile, she pointed at the seat in front of her. "Hi. I'm Clary," she said, holding out her hand in a very professional way.

"Jace."

"So, Jace," Clary said. I watched her lips. Mmm, they looked delicious, especially when she said my name. "I guess it's just you and me. One on one tutoring."

"Perfect." I smiled, feeling a twinge of annoyance when Clary didn't blush like other girls. Was she, like, immune to men or something? Lesbian? Then my hopes of passing this shit would go over the waterfall.

"So let's start with some quick questions so I'll know you better. Then I'll give you a quick test to see where you're at."

Damn, this chick was a hard nut to crack.

"Why are you here?" She asked, pen poised over paper.

"For you, sweetheart," I said. She wasn't fooled. Stupid smartass. "Okay, okay." I raised my hands in a defeated way. "I'm obviously failing Biology, so my teacher and old man forced me here."

Clary scribbled something down. "Yeah, I thought so. You didn't look mentally challenged." So she _had_ noticed me after all. Good.

"Why are _you_ here?" I asked, leaning toward her. It typically worked on girls.

"Wrapping up my last volunteer hours," Clary answered smoothly. "Then I'll be done with high school."

"Cool. We're both seniors." I grinned, mulling over the thought. Another advantage. "I'll be going to Brown. Well, hopefully, if I pass Bio."

Clary's face had lost its color. "Brown? Me too. Wow, that's a weird coincidence."

Oh, hell yes. One hot chick at Brown so far.

"I wanted to go to the art academy in New York," she said dreamily. So I was right. She was an artist. "But, you know, parents. They wanted me to become a nurse." Clary sighed. "Anyway, here." The curt-ness was back in her voice. "Take this test."

The test was hard. Maybe I should have paid attention in class. It wasn't a wonder when Clary's face contorted as she marked X after X.

"Why are you even in AP?" Clary frowned. "Damn. We might even need to spend time out of this to catch you up."

Wow. Things couldn't have gotten better. "I'm free all the time, baby," I winked. "Especially at night." Which was a lie, since Valentine beat me to death at night.

"Yeah…no." Clary blew her red curls out of her face, and I wanted so badly to brush it behind her ear for her. But I had a feeling she'd slap my hand, and I was really not looking for another bruise like all the other ones hidden under my clothing. She pushed a stack of papers toward me. "Read this. Answer the questions. We'll go over them on Tuesday at the library. You free at three?"

"Nope. Football practice." Secretly, I was triumphant. This girl wanted to _meet._ I could totally swing her. No doubt.

"Oh," Clary said, standing up with her bag. "So that's how you got into Brown. I was wondering."

She smirked, hand on the door, ready to leave. Shit, Clary had just dissed me, and it was as sexy as hell. "How about Monday at three?" I asked.

"Sure." And then she was gone, leaving me to wonder at what I had just gotten myself into. Something good, definitely.

I looked down at the pile she'd left. On the very top was a handbook for the Institute, with a post-it attached. Clary had written: _Jace, check the manual. Pg 8._ Flipping to the page, I found that it was a list of rules and guidelines. In red ink she'd circled:

_The affiliation between the students and the tutor must be strictly educational. Nothing more, nothing less._

Grinning, I shut the book. So what if she was off the charts?

I've always been badass.

… 

**Clary**

Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with an arrogant, cocky, sexier-than-hell football player?

God, he was _hot_. Those muscles…I bet his six – no eight – pack is as hard as metal. And those eyes.

Golden.

I've never seen anything like it. I almost melted when he stared at me as he walked in the room. But was he a player? Guys like him were always players, weren't they? Besides, by the Institute's rules, I wasn't allowed to be anything other than a tutor to him anyway.

I've always been a rule-abider.

Even if it means abstaining from Jace and his rock hard abs.

**Chapter one done. Review if you want me to continue(:**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know football's in the fall, but just pretend, in alternative world, that it's at the end of a school year.**

**Sorry for the super late updates, ditto with **_**The Truth About Forever **_**and **_**Infect My Heart.**_** I'm at a camp for a month and its realllllly busy. Also, I'm gonna be going back to China. But once school starts, everything will be back to normal, I promise.**

**Jace**

I hated Mondays. Not stereotype hate. Mondays were when my dad came home from whatever whore house he'd spent over the weekend. Seriously, I don't even know why the hell my mom stays with him. As soon as I'm off to college, I'm out.

"Jace," Sebastian said, knocking me on the shoulder. "Coming with us today?" He gestured to the car parked in front of the gate, piled full with the guys and girls I hung around. Jordan was in the driver's seat, Jonathan sitting shotgun with Kaelie in his lap, Aline and Maia in the backseat, waiting for me and Sebastian.

Aline was…one word. Hot.

Hey, blame it on my hormones, but man, that girl was one good ride.

"Yoo-whoo," Sebastian waved his hand before my eyes. "I asked if you were coming to celebrate with us."

"We haven't won the championship yet," I said, rolling my eyes. But what the hell, we were gonna anyway. "I'm game."

As we walked to the car, a post-it fell out of my pocket. Shit. Clary. Monday. Tutoring.

The packet was unfinished. Actually, I couldn't even remember where I put it. I think it was the trashcan…

I could've ditched, but something made me stop. "Hey," I said. "Sorry. I've got plans."

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Alec," I lied. "He texted me for something."

"Alec's with Magnus," Sebastian said. "And if you're gonna say Isabelle next, she has detention."

"Right," I said, mentally slapping myself. "Well, whatever. I'm not going today."

"Hey," Sebastian called after me. "If it's a girl, I won't tell Aline. I've got your back, Wayland."

It's nice to have my boys with me.

I arrived at the library ten minutes late, looking for Clary. Wow. My tutor wasn't even there. What a great tutor.

"Looking for me?" A familiar voice teased behind me. It was Clary, backpack slung over one shoulder, sketchpad in hand.

Matching her smile, I said, "You're late."

Clary sat down at an empty, circular table. "I figured _you'd_ be late, so I thought I might as well be late too."

Ouch. But I was liking her more by the second. "That really boosts up my eog."

"It needs to be taken down a few notches." Clary looked expectantly at me. "The homework?" She prompted.

"About that…"

"You didn't do it," she finished for me. I nodded, and she sighed, pulling her hair back in a messy ponytail. "Thought so."

I scooted my hair closer to hers. "You're such a nice, supportive tutor."

From her bag, Clary pulled out a set of pencils. "Shut it, student," she ordered. "Here, read this – " another packet of papers "– and then we'll discuss it."

As I took it, I was careful to make sure my fingers brushed hers, laughing silently when she jerked back as if my touch burned her. A few minutes later, the sound of smooth, swift glides of pencil on paper made me lose concentration. Clary was drawing.

"I don't feel like I'm getting my money's worth from you," I drawled lazily, flicking her sketchpad. Damn, she was good. In only a few strokes, she'd captured me almost perfectly.

Clary ignored me, glancing up once in a while to do this weird proportion measurement thing artists use with their thumbs. "Can't stop thinking about me?" I winked.

That got a reaction from her. Flushing, she flipped to a fresh page. "Fine. Then I'll draw the fat librarian with a mole." Her nose scrunched up in this really cute way as she made a face.

"No, no," I said. "Draw me. I'm a perfect model." To prove it, I even struck a pose, hoping to make her laugh.

It worked. "Go back to work, silly," Clary giggled, sketching me once more.

o.O.o

Two hour went by quite fast, and I found that biology really wasn't that hard. At least not when Clary was around.

"You know," I said as she packed up her bag, "you really shouldn't be a tutor, or a teacher."

"Why?"

"You'd distract the students too much. You'd be talking about whatever and they'd be staring blankly at your pretty face."

"Jace!" Clary slapped my arm, unintentionally hitting the purple bruise flowering my biceps. I tried not to wince. "Make sure youread those papers," she said sternly.

Yikes. She's like my mom.

"Oh," I sighed, running a hand through my hair – a move most girls fell for. "I'll give you a trade. A swap in bed for a pass in Bio."

Before those words dropped from my lips, I knew I'd screwed up. Major screwed up. Clary's face paled, then hardened as she ran out of the library, faster than the librarian could say _stop._

…

**Clary**

I burst out through the doors, running as fast as I could away from Jace. How dared he suggest that I'd give him the A into Brown with a night in bed? Did he really think I was that shallow? He didn't even know me, so he had absolutely no right to go around calling me a slut!

A hand on my shoulder pulled me to a stop. I spun around, ready to spit in his face.

"Clary," he said before I could. A shock of electricity zapped through me. It was the first time he'd ever said my name, and despite my anger, I realized I like it. "I'm sorry."

"Do you think that's just going to make everything better?" I sneered. "I'm not something to be conquered! I'm not a tool, or disposable at will." Jace opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off. "How many girls have you fucked?" Jace looked away. "Yeah, I thought so."

I knew I was being a bitch.

"You want to get into Brown? Then you'll have to do it yourself," I said frostily. "There's no easy way out with me, Jace Wayland."

I walked away without looking back.

**Review! Pleaseeeee?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews!**

**Jace**

Saturday morning found me at the Institute once more. Only this time, instead of being disgusted, I had a serious case of butterflies. I hadn't spoken to Clary since we'd parted at the library, and I was scared of what she was going to do. That is, if she even came or not.

The amazing thing was that I'd actually bothered to read and then reread the papers she'd given me. I was going to go look ahead in the chapter but then my dad had stormed into my room and had delivered a crushing blow to my jaw for no reason. He'd said it was because he was "in the mood."

Bull.

Anyway, I now have a huge reddish purple lump along my jaw, thanks to him.

My heart was about to literally burst out of my rib case and fly to mars as I slowly entered Room 24, keeping my head low so Clary wouldn't see the bruise.

Luckily, she didn't' even look up. "I hope you read your papers," she said listlessly.

"I did," I said proudly, sitting down in front of her.

"Alright," she sniffed. "Not bad. Here, complete this worksheet so I know what to go over with you."

I finished it in a second and handed it back to her. Clary's eyes shot up to finally look me in the eyes. Her mouth dropped open at the correct answers. "IPhone? Itouch?"

My head was turned slightly so she couldn't see the bruise. "Nope," I grinned, tapping my head.

"Wow. Okay then…um, let's go onto your homework tonight then." She gave me another packet. (Good God, how many does she have?) "So in the process of cellular respiration, glycosis comes first. Glycosis is a process that changes glucose into two PGAL molecules through a series of reactions where ATP is converted into ADP. Glycosis occurs –"

"In the cytoplasm," I finished for her.

Clary stared at me. "Okay, Jace. What's up."

"The ceiling?"

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously. Is this some joke?"

"I studied ahead," I admitted. "What? It was interesting! Don't' look at me like that."

"You know, you're a lot more than I thought you were." Then she narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong with your neck?"

Crap. "My neck?"

"Yeah. You've been sitting with your neck like this for an hour." She did an imitation.

"I, uh, slept the wrong way."

Her eyes turned suspicious. "Yeah, right – oh my God!" She jumped up from her chair, placed two fingers under my chin and turned her head, fingering my bruise lightly, like butterfly wings.

I tensed. No one touched my bruises. No one. Not my mom, not my friends. Not even Aline, who knew to stay far away from them when we were together. I opened my mouth, about to snap at Clary when she started massaging circles with her thumbs, pressing down gently. And just like that, my anger whisked away. It felt so _good._ I could feel the pain, but I relished it

My eyes closed and I felt a breath leave me. She kept on rubbing. "What happened?" She asked softly. "A fight?"

"Yeah," I said, going with the lie. "But I beat up the other kid before he could run away." I wished I could beat up Valentine…

The pressure lightened, but I trapped her fingers with my hand, holding them to my cheek, my eyes still closed. "More."

The massaging resumed and I sighed. I wanted her to do this to every bruise on every part of my body. Just having her touch me would be heaven. She felt so good. Better than Aline anyday. "Where'd you learn to massage like this."

"Hospital." Her voice sounded so close, and sweet. Like honey. Did she smell like honey too? I like honey. "I'm going to be a nurse, so I decided to learn a little." [**A/N: Does Brown offer bio majors? o_o]**

It was too good. Too tempting. "Hey, Clary, could you massage this part of my shoulder too?"

She moved down, her fingers pressing directly on the bruise. Oh, God. Heaven. "Here? Do you have a bruise here too?" She started to pull of the collar of my shirt.

Reality splashed onto me, and I jerked away. If Clary saw that bruise, she'd see everything else – the other bruises, cuts, and scars. Clary was standing behind me, looking surprised and shocked at my sudden reaction.

"Jace?"

"We should get back to work," I said.

Clary flushed, two spots of pink on her cheeks. "Sorry," she cleared her throat; "So, glycosis…"

I zoned out for the rest of the class, heart still thumping at how close she'd gotten to finding out, and how my body still yearned for her touch.

…

**Clary**

I caught a ride home with Simon, since my car broke down. As Simon babbled on and on about his success with his student, my mind drifted back to Jace.

I'd been so close. Too close. He was my student. How could I have forgotten? And of course I definitely did not like the feel of his muscles under my hands.

But that bruise. It must have hurt a lot. He'd said it was from a fight, but I'd seen his hands. His knuckles were fine. Not swollen.

He hadn't been in a fight, so what was he hiding?

"Fantasizing about Mr. Golden?" Simon cut into my thoughts. "How you just throw your arms around his neck and smash your mouth to his, screwing all the tutoring-relationship shit."

"Simon!"

He grinned. "What? Don't even try to deny it. You had that _look_ on your face."

"There was no 'look' on my face," I said, leaning forward to turn the radio full blast.

"Yes there was!" Simon yelled. "You had sex written all over your face."

Jesus Christ. I was so screwed. "Did the teachers see?"

Laughing, Simon ruffled my hair. "Yes, and now you are going to be on probation."

"Are you serious?" I squeaked.

Simon gave me a look, and I shut up, but his words still haunted my brain. Was I falling? Falling for a guy who looked like a fallen angel himself?

**Review people. The chemistry is just beginning.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Jace**

Aline clung onto my arm as our group walked downtown. Watching them, I started to realize what Clary had said. That I was one of "those" guys. I watched as Sebastian and Jonathan swaggered like they owned the world, their pants almost falling off. I stared at Aline and Kaelie, whose faces were caked with makeup. Jordan and Maia were the only genuine ones in the group.

Me, I guess I was…I guess I was what Clary said I was. After knowing me for a few hours, she saw through my walls and pierced me straight through the heart. It didn't make me comfortable at all.

Red curls reflected in the coffee parlor across the street. Impossible. I slapped my face in an effort to erase Clary from my mind. Seriously, I was starting to see her everywhere. In the bookstore, at school (she didn't even go to the same school), at clubs (Clary and clubs did not go together…).

There was one word to describe me: _obsessed._ Which was impossible. Because I do not get obsessed. Especially not over a girl.

I blinked. But there she was. I could see her clearly, waiting in line.

"Hey," I called to Jonathan. "I dropped something a way back. I'll catch up to you sooner."

"I'll come with you, baby," Aline chimed in, digging her nails into my bruise. Bitch.

I pried her manicured nails off my arm. "Uh, no. I don't think so."

I walked away as Jordan whistled. Although there was nothing wrong with being seen with Clary, I took the long way, making sure that none of my friends saw me. Because if Sebastian or Jonathan laid their eyes on Clary, they'd definitely call dibs.

She was still waiting in line to order when I sneaked up behind her and snaked my arms around her waist, pulling her warm body against me. "Boo," I whispered in her ear.

Clary let out an ear-piercing scream, so loud that the man behind the counter dropped his coffee in fright and the cup fell to the ground. He glared at me, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

Clary twisted in my grasp until she was facing me, both hands against my chest to keep some distance between us. "Jerk."

"Babe," I drawled. "That was hilarious."

Before she could reply, the cashier called her forward. "The usual," Clary said, taking out a five dollar bill.

"French Vanilla," I said, trapping Clary's hand under one of mine and taking out a twenty with the other.

"Jace," she hissed. "What are you doing?"

It was so cute, I couldn't help smiling at her confused face. "I'm paying for you," I said, tossing her a trademark _duh_ as soon as I wiped the smile off my face. "You're welcome."

Clary scowled as we got out of line with our coffee. "You didn't need to."

"I thought I'd treat my teacher, just this once. You owe me, of course."

Her mouth looked way too tempting as she sipped her coffee. She dabbed her lips together, taking in a deep breath. "I love coffee."

I looked away from her lips, forcing myself to drink a mouthful of scathing coffee which burned all the way down. Ouch.

Clary licked her bottom lip, and I almost groaned. Damn girl had to be teasing me.

I thought of her touch last Saturday, and I swear I could have died on the spot. There was nothing more I wanted than to take her to the bathroom and lock it, so she could massage my whole body and the still aching bruises. I wanted her, right now, so badly I felt scared of myself, because I've never craved anything like this before.

As if the sheer force of my gaze forced her, Clary met my eyes over the rim of the cup. Her lips parted.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

…

**Clary**

He stepped into my personal space. Way too close for my comfort. One step closer, and I would lose to my deepest desires. "I like staring at you," he said, voice low. "You're pretty."

Jace took another step closer, and I inadvertently stepped back. "Stop kissing up."

Wrong word to say. Jace's eyes lit up. "Kissing?"

Oh, snap. "No. That's so not what I said."

"Kissing sounds good," he breathed along my neck, close, but not touching. "Touching sounds good. You sound good."

I placed a hand on his chest and pushed, but he swooped down lightning speed – his lips landing on my…

Coffee cup. As I breathed out a sigh of relief, Jace took a huge swig, and practically spit it out the second afterward. Damn, the look on his face was hilarious. His flawless features contorted into a monsterous mask, his eyes bulging, face turning purple.

After two seconds, it was gone, and Jace looked as hot as ever. "_Black coffee?_"

I shrugged, not sorry at all. "Sorry."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Coulda warned me beforehand. And for that, you'll owe me big time."

I looked over his shoulder outside the window. Simon still hadn't arrived from the bookstore yet. "What are you doing out anyway? You've got a huge exam tomorrow!"

He rolled his eyes, taking a swig of coffee. "Screw it."

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. "If you pass your test, I'll give you a reward."

His golden eyes shot lightning. "Say that again?"

The door of the shop suddenly banged open as a huge group of teenagers clamored in. The guys in the group swaggered, holding their hands to their belts, the girls dressed as sluts, their stuff showing. The typical "it" crowd.

And surprise, surprise, they were heading for Jace.

"Man," a guy with black hair said, clapping Jace on the back. "What took you so long?"

Jace's eyes had hardened a little. "I wanted coffee."

I looked up, catching the eye of another blond haired guy, opening checking me out. "Nice catch, Jace."

I scowled.

To my surprise, Jace scowled too. But no one had any time to comment on that, because pretty little Asian girl stomped up to Jace and threw herself onto him. Roughly, Jace shook her off.

He pointed to the two guys. "You two, quit messing. We're going." He turned to me. "I'll take up your offer."

Someone whistled, but I didn't know who, because I was too busy staring at the girl with the black hair who was glaring at me like she wanted me dead.

Did Jace have a girlfriend? Because it sure seemed like it. And I did not want any mess with anyone like that.

I realized I was clenching my cup of coffee so tight that my knuckles turned white. My jaw felt tight, and I realized my teeth were clenched. Oh, crap. I definitely had fallen.

**Review! I procrastinated on my research paper to write this for ya.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Jace**

Score.

…

**Clary**

Somehow when Saturday rolled around, I had this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Still, Jace was Jace, and, convincing myself that he was going to fail without me (_not_ because I wanted to see him), I hurried to the Institute. I was just laying out the books when the door opened.

Jace swaggered in, a smug smile on his face. Weird. Since when did he smile for class?

"Why so happy today?"

The smile on his face tugged into a full blown grin, the exact one that made my heart melt. "You forgot," he said.

"What?" I was having some trouble processing what he said when all I could see and think about was his smile.

He slid a paper toward me. On the top, printed in red ink, was a B. A solid 86%

I couldn't help but break into a smile, matching his. "Oh my God! Congrats!"

He reached in for a hug, and I instinctively leaned in, until I remembered where we were. "Institute," I said, stopping him. He scowled. "Not appropriate. But you can have a high-five if you want."

Lame. I wanted to slap myself so bad for making such a lame comment.

Luckily, Jace didn't say anything. He surprised me by actually slapping my hand – only instead of pulling his hand away, his fingers twined with mine, and suddenly, we were holding hands. His hand was rough and calloused, a football player's hand, and warm against mine, but his fingers were long and artistic, like a pianist's. "Uh…" I stammered, blushing madly.

Jace smirked, and as I stared, frozen, he brought our hands to his mouth, brushing his lips gently across my knuckles. I shivered.

Not good, because it feed his ego.

Good, because I wanted more.

As if reading my mind, he bit down gently on one of my fingers, and…sucked. And holy shit, did it feel good. My mind was practically erased of everything it knew, except for the feel of his mouth on my skin.

He held my eyes as he bit down harder, and this time, it brought me back to reality. I tore my hand away.

"Scared?"

"No," I hissed, narrowing my eyes. "We're in the _Institute!_ This isn't allowed!" Crossing my arms so my hands were unaccessible, I willed my face to stop blushing. Only it didn't listen to me.

Jace made a big show of looking around the closed room. "So? The door's closed, there's no windows, and no one can see. C'mon, live a little, Clary."

Another rush of blood to my face. This time, it was from embarrassment.

There was nothing wrong with playing safe, was there?

"Whatever," I said roughly, sitting down in my chair. "On to the lesson."

Jace didn't sit down. "You forgot," he repeated, "our deal. I passed. Now you have to uphold your end."

Oh, crap. I'd totally forgotten about the coffee shop.

Okay, that's a lie. I'd totally forgotten about the deal we made, but I remembered him drinking my coffee with every detail.

"Right," I lied, as if I'd remembered all along. "Well, you just got your reward, so forget it."

"Nope," Jace said. He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward me. Not sure if I should lean back or stay and pretend I wasn't scared, I chose the latter. "I want you to massage me, anywhere I ask, with no questions."

"Anywhere?" I squeaked.

Jace laughed, finally sitting down. "You're such a prude, Clary. Not like _that_."

_It's okay. Just a massage._

"Fine," I scowled, pretending I was forced to do this. "Where?"

He pointed to his shoulder. "Start here."

Placing my hands where he wanted them, I began massaging. I never knew I was so good at massaging, but by the look on Jace's face, I knew he could have died and gone to heaven. His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed and happy, the frown lines disappearing. By just watching him looking so carefree and calm, something stirred inside of me, and I massaged harder.

Jace sighed, leaning his head against my arm. His blond hair tickled but felt like silk at the same time. "It feels so _good_," he murmured.

"Maybe I should become a masseur," I said with a small smile.

He opened one lazy eye and the corners of his mouth turned up. "Nah. I wanna keep you as my own."

Thank god he closed his eye right after, or else he would've seen my eyes widen and my cheeks flush. Silently, I blew out a breath. _My own._

Just an expression. That's all.

"Here," Jace said, pointing to his bicep. "And after you're done with that, massage here." He gestured to an area of his chest, a little above his heart. I gulped.

Moving in front of him, I began to kneed his chest. Damn man was pure, hard muscle.

"That tickles," Jace said, sounding oddly close. I looked up. His face was barely five inches away, and he was playing with my hair, which had fallen on his face and neck. He turned toward me and it was like we'd both been zapped by lightning. He froze, but then a minute later, I felt his warm breath tickle my face.

My own breathing was still shallow.

Jace leaned closer, his eyes glowing golden. My hands were flat on his chest, fingers curling into his tshirt.

The door banged open with a clash, making me jump. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman outside the door.

Shit.

I did the only thing I could – I reached in and gave Jace a crushing hug. "Oh, my God! Great job, Jace. I'm so proud of you!"

Confused, Jace put his arms around my waist, returning the hug and making my stomach churn with butterflies. "Uh, thanks?"

I pulled away, reached behind me, and pulled out Jace's test. "Look, Mrs. Branwell," I said to the principle of the Institute, who had her eyebrows raised. "Jace passed his test."

"I'm glad to hear that everything's going well," Mrs. Branwell smiled. "Keep up the good work, Jace. Clary…" she gestured between me and Jace "I understand your excitement, but please, refrain from…you know."

"Oh, yes. Of course," I said, way too quickly.

After the principle left, I sank into my chair, glaring at the table.

"So that's why you hugged me," Jace said.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," I sulked. "If I moved away, it would have been even more suspicious. This is all your fault."

Jace shifted in his seat, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Does this mean my reward is over?"

My head collided with the table.

Jace snickered.

**Oh, Jace(: Hehe, I love him.**

**Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**This has to be the fastest ive ever updated! :D **

**Jace**

We decided to meet at Central Park on Monday. Well, I did. She wanted the library, but I blackmailed her, saying that if it was anything but Central Park, I wouldn't come. Truthfully, I thought that the way she was kinda scared about us was cute. The girls I'd been with before had all been bold and daring. Clary was…new, one of a kind.

So here I was, sitting by myself on a bench, wondering if Clary was ever going to show up. It was the first time she'd been this late. I glanced at my watch for the millionth time.

I swear, this girl was driving me crazy. Ever since I almost _almost_ kissed her, I couldn't stop wishing that it was Monday already. (Seriously weird, since I hated Mondays.) I wanted to see her, to talk to her, to make her laugh. Hell, I wanted to kiss her and make her moan my name.

I'd woken up from some pretty hot dreams, as mad as hell when I found out that I was alone. The biggest kick was that I hadn't kissed any other girl since I'd met Clary. Aline was getting jumpy and suspicious. When she tried to force herself on me, I'd shrug her off, saying my dad had given me new bruises.

It was the first time my dad had come in handy.

I knew I should really cut things off with Aline, but the thing was, we were never "together" to begin with. We were this on and off fling between our other relationships. Breaking things off with Aline would lead to more complicated messes, so I had decided to wing it until the end of the school year. Then I'd never see her ever again.

But now, with Clary in the picture, it just felt wrong to have Aline in the back when Clary was there. Because Clary wasn't like other girls. She was pure, innocent, and she didn't deserve messes like this. Even I knew that.

"Hey," Clary said, setting down her bag on the bench before taking a seat beside me, a full foot away. I'd been so absorbed in my thoughts I hadn't even heard her arrive.

"You're late."

"My best friend had some afterschool stuff," she said simply. "He had to stay awhile."

My alerts were way up. "He?"

Clary shot me a sideways glance. "Yes. I have a guy best friend. Suck it up, Jace."

I didn't like that, but I didn't push it further, because if there's anything worse than a cheating boyfriend, it's a jealous boyfriend.

Not that I was her boyfriend…yet.

"Here's my homework," I said, tossing her the papers.

"Great," Clary said, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her head.

Red. Pretty, my mind said, apparently loosing the ability to string sentences. It blocked out Clary's words.

Words. Mouth. Lips. Soft.

I found myself leaning forward, without any idea of what I was doing, not caring what rules I was breaking, except that I wanted – _had – _to kiss her.

…

**Clary**

My hand collided with his shoulder, keeping him in place. For some reason, I didn't force him back, but let him stay where he was.

"Jace," I warned.

"We're not in the Institute," he breathed, running his nose along my jaw, which sent sparks running through every part of me. "We're not even in any place educational."

"But we have our books with us," I argued weakly. Just having him so close made my defenses crumble.

He drew in a deep breath, taking me in. "Forget them."

"The rules." My hand, the one not on his shoulder, curled into a fist in my lap.

"Forget those too," Jace murmured in a low tone. "There's no one here to see us. No one will know, 'cept us. Just once, Clary. Let me taste you once."

My hand fell away from his shoulder.

As his face came closer and closer, my heart pounded so hard I was afraid everyone at the park could hear it. His eyes seemed to glow with warmth and reassurance before they fluttered shut. His eyelashes were golden, just like his eyes.

I closed my eyes.

I didn't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't how soft his lips were, or how he tasted like apples. He didn't deepen the kiss, but left it light, as if he knew it was my first kiss, and how scared I was that I'd mess up.

I wasn't ready for when he pulled back, and I shivered.

"Just once," Jace reminded, but he didn't pull back. His eyes, when he looked at me, were feverishly bright.

I fisted my hand in his shirt. "More."

He grinned, smiling against my mouth. This time, he wasn't that gentle. His hand, on my arm, was gentle, but before I knew it, his mouth had opened mine, and his tongue was poking in. Inviting me.

Tentatively, I wound my tongue around his, playing, and he seemed to like it, because a little moan escaped his mouth. His hand rose up to fist in my hair, to angle my head so he had better access.

I realized I loved apples.

I felt as if I was drowning in his scent, melting in his hold. I sighed, and it got some response from him, because his hold tightened.

We were both breathing hard when he pulled away. Positive my face was as red as a tomato, I looked down at my lap. Jace's fingers under my chin made me look up. He was grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed like mine, hair mussed, eyes shining, and I realized that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He was as worked up as I was.

"That was amazing," Jace said, and my eyebrows shot up. Never expected him to admit that. "What?" His palms flipped up, defensive. "It's true."

Unsuccessfully biting back a smile, I held up one of the books. Immediately, Jace pushed it aside. "Screw it. Let's do other stuff. Like kissing."

I leaned forward, toward his ear and he froze, breathing shallow. Brushing my lips lightly across his ear, I smiled as goosebumps rose on his arms. "You need to study."

He made a noise of annoyance and ducked his head, trying to steal a kiss, but I was faster. "If you do it well, maybe you'll get a reward."

Jace shot a long side glance at me. "My rewards come big," he warned. I couldn't help but shiver. Jace definitely knew his way around.

...

**Jace**

I don't think there are any words that describe the kiss, much less what Clary does to me. With her around, my thoughts never go straight, and my normal suave remarks turn to mush, leaving me grasping for words. It should of turned me away, but instead it left me gasping for more.

Since Monday, I'd been flying high. Smiling. Doing things I've never done before, like say hi to adoring underclassmen, helping pick up fallen books, willingly answering questions in class. Until Friday came around.

I guess my dad lost money gambling or something, because the moment he came home, he delivered a crushing blow to my jaw.

_Fuck. _I crumpled to the flooring, moving my jaw to make sure it was still intact. A searing stab of pain shot up my leg as Valentine reared back and kicked me in the shin. Again, and again. Then switching to my back. I lay there, unmoving, absorbing all the pain, because I'd learned the hard way that if I showed anything, he'd add on more.

Clary's image flashed through my head, and I squeezed my eyes closed, chanting her name over and over again in my head.

"What's that?" Valentine sneered, taking a break from using me as a punching bag. "Why are you saying the name of an herb?"

_Oh shit. _I'd been saying it outloud? _Fuck._

"No."

"Don't answer me until I tell you to!" Valentine roared. "This is what you get for lying." He raked his nails down my arm, bursting old scars. I couldn't help it; my jaw clenched, then I let out a gasp of pain.

"Is she your newest girlfriend?" He snarled, squatting down next to me. His breath reeked of alcohol. "Are you going to fuck her brainless and then throw her away?" He laughed. "Is she pretty? Cause then you'll get the leftovers. After I'm done with her."

"Don't touch Clary!" I shouted, surprising both of us. Carried by adrenaline rushing through my blood, I knocked him, straight in his groin. This was where football muscle came in, and boy, was I glad.

Valentine's mouth opened in a soundless scream as he fell back, clutching his bruised (and possible, hopefully, destroyed) parts. His eyes screamed murder.

But for once, I wasn't scared. "If you ever touch Clary," I threatened, leaning over him and spitting in his face, "I'll make you regret the day you were born."

"Jace?"

A new voice. Feminine voice. Scared voice. My mom.

"What are you doing?" She said, voice slightly off pitch.

"Warning Valentine."

She beckoned me into the kitchen. "He's your father, Jace. Don't address him as Valentine. Show some respect."

"He lost my respect a long time ago." My voice was hard. Then I asked something I'd never dreamed of. "Why do you stay with him, Mom?"

Her eyes held impossible sadness. "Because I love him, Jace."

**Jace's mom, just to clarify, is Celine. So, watcha think of Jace's abuse? And the kiss? :D **

**Slow update for the next chap. I'm on vacation, and i dunno when I'll have time to write.**

**review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Clary**

The moment Jace walked into the room, I knew something was wrong. He looked sleep-deprived, his shoulders sagged, and he walked with a limp, but the most shocking thing was the huge purple bruise dancing along his chin. Purple…turning to black. I was surprised he could still talk. Actually, just him being here was a huge turn on.

Not even caring that we were at the Institute, I jumped up from my seat, slammed the door closed, and stood in front of him, nervous. "You…" I gestured to his bruise. "Don't tell me another fight."

He didn't bother to deny it. Instead, he sent me a sidelong look, and pointed to his bruise. "Kiss it better."

How is it possible that someone could look so hot even after looking beat up?

"Clary," he said again, tone low, warningly. "Kiss it better."

I let my lips brush over it. Even though it was the lightest of touches, Jace gave a shaky sigh, and turned his head and kissed me, cupping his hand around my neck to draw me closer, running his tongue across my lips.

I pulled back. "Yeah, right." And poked his bruise. He hissed out a breath of pain. "Tell me."

Jace raised his eyes to mine and I knew, from the stone hard expression, that he wasn't going to give up without a fight. And knowing his weakness, I smiled. Jace eyed me suspiciously.

Placing my hand on his bicep, I started massaging gently. The effect was instantaneous. Jace's eyes flickered close and he pressed a kiss to the crook of my elbow. My knees shook, yet I managed to stay on my feet. My hands traveled down, with a mind of their own, feeling his hard muscles, his abs, under me, unresisting when I pressed down. No inch of fat whatsoever.

Unbelievably hot.

Jace was drunk in my touch, eye closed, peppering kisses absentmindedly up my arm. As hard as he was trying to hide it, little moans were escaping his mouth, as well as short hisses. And before I knew what I was doing, my hands were on the hem of his shirt and my fingers were lifting it higher and higher, until Jace shucked it off entirely and threw it to the other side of the room.

And I froze. Staring at his chest. Because covering his chest were scars, billions of them, small and large, and huge bruises purpling his skin. I knew, from one glance, that it'd hadn't been from one fight. It'd been from something else. Something way more serious than I'd thought.

"Jace," I whispered. "What happened?"

His head was ducked, his hair falling into his eyes, hiding his expression from me. He shook his head, mute.

I took in the whole thing, and lightly trailed one finger over a scar across his collar bone. He took in a shaky breath, stiffening, as I ran my hand down his chest, tracing his scars gently. "Who's doing this to you," I whispered, my voice cracking, feeling unbelievably sad as tears welled in my eyes, because no one, especially Jace, deserved this.

"My dad," Jace whispered, so soft I almost didn't hear him. He ventured a look up when I didn't respond, because I was shocked speechless.

Abuse from a parent. Jace.

I was pretty sure my own horror was mirrored in Jace's eyes, but when he spoke, I knew it wasn't because he was afraid of his dad. It was of me. "Are you ashamed of me?" he asked, sounding so vulnerable that a tear escaped from my eye. Jace – cocky, arrogant Jace – had been stripped of his hard armor, leaving behind his vulnerable, unprotected heart that with one word, could be shredded beyond repair. And I'd been the one to do it. "Aw, Clary," he said, voice cracking as he reached up to catch a falling teardrop. It glistened on his finger like a newly-cut diamond. "Don't cry. Please don't cry."

I couldn't help it. More tears rolled down my cheeks. "No," I cried, shaking my head. "No, I'd never be ashamed of you."

Without a word, Jace wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a crushing hug, warm and safe, his face buried in my hair. And despite the bumpy scars on his chest, he still felt like Jace. It was because, I realized as I cried into his chest, he was Jace, no matter what he looked like, or how he was torn and pushed to the ground, he'd always be able to get up again, and he'd always be Jace. The Jace I'd always known.

Jace didn't say anything as I cried. He just let me be, without trying to hush me, or calm to down. By the time I'd gotten a hold of myself, it was already almost an hour. Jace kissed me lightly on the cheeks – still wet, but he didn't say anything – and got up, pulled on his shirt. He reached for the door handle.

"You have to report it," I said quietly.

He stopped in his tracks, back to me. "I can't."

"You have to do something about it! You can't just let him beat you up and tear you down like that!" Now sadness was disappearing, replaced quickly by anger.

"You don't understand!" Jace said, whirling around, eyes blazing. "I can't tell anyone!"

"You told me."

He stared at me for a long time. "Yes. You're the only one I've told it to, and I plan on keeping it that way. I'm sorry, Clary," he said, picking up his backpack and turning for the door. "Believe me, I would have told a long time ago if I could, but there's a reason why I can't. Something bad is going to happen if I do."

And then he was gone.

…

**Jace**

Clary.

Beautiful.

Lovely.

Kind.

Caring.

Smart.

Compassionate.

She dominated my thoughts, day and night. Her face when she saw my body, her expression as she swore her acceptance of me, her eyes as she fought against me. Everything about her seemed so impossibly right that sometimes I would spend hours doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, wondering how on earth I'd gotten to meet such a wonderful girl.

Why? Why me? What did I do to deserve someone like her?

I wasn't a good person. Hell, if anything, I probably deserved a slut who treated her potential bed-mates as shitty as I did.

I didn't want her to cry, and I'd made her cry. Believe me when I say this, but no amount of words can describe the guilt that weighs down on my conscience to know that I'd made her cry. God, I'd been so caught up in the moment when she was touching me that I'd acted without thinking, something I hadn't done in a long time. With her hands on me, the shirt had just felt way, way too hot and tight, and nothing felt good until it was completely gone. That was when I'd noticed she'd stopped moving, and reality hit me.

I now sat in front of my Biology textbook, frantically studying for the test on Tuesday even though Clary's mind was everywhere I looked. Every word looked like Clary's eyes, every picture like Clary, every letter like her mouth. I imagined Clary's voice reading the passages to me, and everything became clearer.

I wanted desperately to ace this test, to make Clary happy and, most importantly, proud of me. I never want to see her broken and sad face again. I always want to see it shining with happiness. Because just having her happy, I'd be happy too.

***Because a girl like you is impossible to fine, you're impossible to find….* Fall for you by Secondhand Serenade. Best song ever!33**

**Eeek! Clockwork Prince comes out in three months! And Silence is out next month! (Hush, Hush anyone? Patch3333)**

**Reviews are always always welcomed! XD**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hmm, after writing Ch 10 of Infect My Heart, Off Limits seems so calm and innocent. LOL :D Hehe, anyway, on with the story!**

**Clary**

Well, we didn't meet on Monday. Jace didn't call to plan, and after what happened, I felt scared and, for some reason, slightly ashamed to call him. I didn't know what he thought of me after my breakdown on Saturday. We didn't exactly end on a happy note either…

I didn't know what to think. It was as if I had OCD. (Obsessive-Compulsion Disorder, for those of you who didn't know it.) I checked my phone for missed calls and text messages every five minutes.

And every time? None.

Did he hate me?

Did he think I was weak?

Did he want to break up with me? And never see my face again?

I checked my phone for the fifth time since class started.

None.

None at all.

…

**Jace**

"Okay, you little dipshits," Starkweather barked. He licked his fingertips in the classic teacher way as he counted the tests for each row of students. "The unit test. Any of you cheat, and you're gone. Getting a big, fat zero on this assignment."

"Like you?" A snicker rose from the back of the room, close to where I sat.

Starkweather glared at us. "Zero for you right there, Mr. Cliffton."

A loud groan. "Get real, Mr. Starkweather."

"I am real." Starkweather pointed a stubby finger at Jacob Cliffton. "If you complain some more, you're ending up with a date with the principal."

"Oh, she's hot," Jacob said. "Can I go?"

I whistled. The class laughed.

"Alright, you assholes," Starkweather shouted. "Get to work."

Not unsurprisingly, we settled down, and moments later, the soft glides of pencils bubbling answers filled the silence. Quickly I skimmed over the questions, filling in each answer with confidence.

_The structure of an amino acid contains a carboxyl group, a carbon bonded to a hydrogen, a rest group, and…?_

Easy. Amino group.

_Saturated fats differ from unsaturated fat because…?_

Saturated contain only single bonds. Unsaturated have double bonds between carbon atoms.

I went through the first thirty questions like that, the answers popping off the top of my head.

Then…

The last question.

_Trans fat is different from saturated fat, as it is a manmade fat. Peanut butter, made by first extracting the unsaturated fat, drenching it with hydrogen, and then inserting the product back into the mixture, is flexible and easy to manage because it contains trans fat. However, due to the recent widespread knowledge of the harmfulness of trans fat, producers have slyly changed the labels on the cans. While trans fat may be listed as zero, it's new name is known as…_

Uh…

My head spun. Did we even go over this in class? Oh – shit. We did, but I'd been daydreaming about Clary that day, and I'd forgotten what Starkweather had been droning about.

_Think, man. Think._

The board behind Clary's face had said…

_Hydrogenated…_

I couldn't remember. I buried my head in my arms. The last question. It was the very last question, for heaven's sake!

_ Oil, stupid,_ I heard Clary's teasing voice in the back of my head. We were in Room 24 again, leaning over packets of homework. She looked up at me with those piercing green eyes. _You just have to remember that organic peanut butter is a lot sloppier than something like Skippy, because it contains oil, and hasn't been processed and isn't bad. _

I wrote down _Hydrogenated Oil,_ and turned in my test. Starkweather raised his eyebrows.

"Number one, Mr. Wayland," he noted. "That tutor must've helped. You're grades rising quite fast. You don't even need the tutor anymore."

"Well," I said, smiling, "I think she's a keeper."

Since Biology was the last class, I walked out a few minutes earlier than the bell. And huh, who did I run into?

Aline.

I'd been avoiding her, but I guess it was time to face the truth, to get it over with. Time to end it forever with her.

"Jace!" She squealed, the hall filling with the pounding clacks of her heels. She flung her arms wide, flinging herself into me.

Or not. Maybe today wasn't the day.

She reached up, angling for a kiss, but I turned my head, and inwardly winced as her sticky, gloss-caked lips grazed my ear.

Yeah. Like everyone just wanted a red ear.

"Aline," I said, exasperated. "Don't do that again."

"B-b-but Jace," she whined, pouting in a way I suppose she thought was cute.

"It makes you look stupid."

There. Blunt was the way to go.

Aline narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, poking a sharp nail at my chest. "You used to be fun. Did you find someone else?"

I rolled my eyes. Each time, it was the same. Each time, she'd dig into every part of my life, sniffing out and hunting down the newest girl I'd hooked up with. Unless she had a new toy herself.

"No," I lied. I didn't want anything bad happening to Clary. "Of course not, babe."

It was like trying to speak with a mouth full of peanut butter.

She examined me for a minute longer, before shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. "Okay," she said, brushing past me and slapping my butt. "Call me."

Yeah, like in never.

Shaking my head, I walked to the gym, pushing open the locker room door. Football practice was going to start right after school, and since the Championship game was soon approaching – in less than two weeks – the excitement was almost palpable. The lockers were already decorated in our school colors, blue and yellow, and in various places on campus, streamer and posters hung.

Just wait til the week of the Big Game. It'll be crazy.

Smiling as I recalled all the previous championships, I pulled out my cell, squeezing in one last text before I had to go.

…

**Clary**

_Hey –JW_

**Hey –CF**

_Meet tom? __ –JW_

**Ok. central park? –CF **

_Sure –JW _

**I'm sorry –CF**

_? –JW_

**Y'know…Saturday –CF**

_You can't see this, but I'm rolling my eyes right now. :P –JW _

**-_- Jace… –CF **

_Lol. See you tom cutie –JW_

**Cya –CF **

**Review! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Jace**

I sat alone on the bench, turning the paper in my sweaty hands over and over. Clary wasn't here yet. I'd arrived early to compose myself, making sure I'd be ready for any comment she'd make. I was nervous. What if, instead of looking at me, she'd look straight at my chest, trying to see the scars through my clothing?

I mean, sure, if other girls who didn't know anything about me looked at me like that, I knew they'd be trying to count my abs, but this was Clary, and I never knew what she was thinking.

"Someone's eager today." She stood before me, smilingly teasingly. Her eyes were fixated on mine. They didn't wander south for even a second.

"Here," I said, thrusting the piece of paper into her hands. She opened it, slowly breaking out into a smile as she realized what it was. My Biology test.

Before I knew it, she'd enveloped me in a crushing hug, surprising me with how much strength she had for such a small body.

"I'm so proud of you, Jace!" she squealed into my ear. "An A-! My little boy has grown up."

"Little boy?" I mock-frowned.

She bobbed her head, and her ponytail swung from side to side. "But that doesn't mean you get to slack off, Mister." She poked my in the chest. "I have plans for this gorgeous thing in front of me."

"You mean my brain, or my chest?" I teased. "Because if it's my chest, I'd gladly volunteer."

And when I leaned down to kiss her, she didn't protest, even rising on her tiptoes to reach eagerly for her kiss. The kiss was soft, something gentle and sweet, and I realized that this whole time, I'd missed out on something great. That the feeling you got from kissing someone didn't have to come from a hot, mouth-melding kiss. In fact, I liked these sweet, light kisses better than any deep throat tongue action.

Shit, man. This girl was driving me crazy.

If the guys saw this, there'd only be one saying for it. Clary had me wound around her little pinkie.

She pulled away much too soon, and laughing at my sour face, she planted another light peck on my lips. Then came the harsh stuff.

The brain-joggling AP Bio questions.

"Alright, Jace," she said. "Glycogen is a blank that is made of many blank monomers. A: polymer, sucrose; B: lipid, fructose; C: carbohydrate, glucose; or D: protein, starch."

Uh, what?

"Uhm," I said.

"Come on, Jace," she sighed. "We learned this like the first week."

"The first week!" I exclaimed. "Exactly."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Remember, glycogen sounds like…"

"Glucose?" I guessed. "So it's C."

"Right. Next question. The theory of evolution, put forward by Charles Darwin, stated that –"

My phone sprang to life in my pocket. I slid it out of my pocket, then – shit.

Gesturing to Clary to hold on, I jumped off the bench and ran to the nearest tree, far away from Clary.

Because the person that was calling me…was Valentine. Who never called. So it had to be bad.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed _answer call._

I didn't even have time to answer the phone before his booming voice came blasting through.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get your ass home immediately! I specifically told you to get me that bottle of Vodka days ago. Where is it? You little worthless bastard! I raised you for nothing. You're so stupid! That's why you're failing Biology. I want my Vodka, NOW!"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I thought he'd be gone until the weekend, so I postponed buying the drink.

Shaken, I ran back to Clary, muttered a lame excuse, and fled, turning back once to see Clary staring bewildered after me.

…

Shit.

Fuck.

_FUCK._

Everything went black.

…

**Clary**

That was weird. Jace just…left. Without a word. He'd muttered something about using the bathroom.

The lamest excuse ever. I mean, really? The bathroom?

Something must've come up. Something bad, because the look on his face when he left was one of horror.

I sat on the bench for an hour longer, staring off into the distance, my heart constantly worried for him. Did he fail a test? Did he forget football practice? Or…worse?

My eyes squeezed shut, refusing to let my brain think about it.

I think the passersby thought I was crazy.

Finally, my phone buzzed against my butt. (It was in my back pocket!) Simon.

"Hey, Clary," he said. "I'm parked over by the tree."

With all my materials in my arms, I jogged over to him, dumping the textbooks in his backseat before climbing in. "Thanks, Si. I can't wait until I get my car back."

He smiled, then winked. "So, how was your tutoring today?"

"Speaking of that…" I bit my lip. "How about a quick stop at the Institute?"

…

"4378 Shadowhunter Ave," I muttered, typing it into the GPS.

"What a weird address," Simon said. "Anyway, why are we going to Jace's house again? Isn't this breaking the Institute's rules?"

"Nope," I said smartly. "I'm dropping off his homework."

Simon casted a dubious glance in my direction.

It took a while before we finally found Jace's house, after so many wrong turns. As Simon slowly pulled to a stop, we peered up at Jace's house, astonished.

Yep. He was the rich football quarterback found in those chick books.

His house was huge. Huge. Three stories high, it towered above its neighbors, and in the dining room was a sparkling crystal chandelier. The front door was open, and light poured out.

Then my vision dropped down to stare into the clear window pane of the living room, where there was a body lying on the floor.

Weird.

It was like a life-sized, blond haired rag doll. And that's when I realized – it was Jace. On the ground. Bleeding, beaten, lifeless. A scream threatened to rip itself from my throat, but Simon flung a hand over my mouth.

"Don't," he said, and by his tone, I knew he was shaken too. "I'll get him out as fast and as quietly as I can. Then we'll pull him in here."

"No," I said, jumping out of the car. "That's my job."

I heard Simon cursing after me, but before he could do anything, I sprinted through the door, and barged into the house, veering left, and headed straight for Jace.

It'd later register in my mind that maybe stomping noisily into the house wasn't the smartest idea.

But for now, all I could see and think about was Jace. Dropping on my knees, I gently cradled his head, wincing as my hands touched the still warm blood. He had a minor head wound, and I quickly tore a part of his shirt to staunch the flow of blood.

There was a broken bottle of Vodka lying not too far away, stained red.

Deafening rage pounded through me, and all I saw was red.

_The bastard._

"Jocelyn?" A low, hoarse, disbelieving voice rasped. I froze, Jace's head in my lap.

Shit.

Slowly, I raised my head. Then – wait. Did he just call me _Jocelyn_?

No way. No freaking way. Jocelyn was my mom's name.

I knew Valentine as soon as I saw him. He was none of the big, burly, tattooed man I'd pictured him to be. Instead, he had a lean, athletic body, and the face of a haggard, stressed father in his forties, except his hair was so pale it was nearly white, and his eyes were bloodshot. Half a bottle of alcohol dangled precariously from one hand.

"Jocelyn," he whispered again, extending one hand slowly. I flinched. His hand dropped, and he looked heartbroken.

What did he want from me? Or was it my mom?

A younger woman came out of the bedroom behind him. She saw me, with Jace in my lap, and Valentine before us. From one look, I knew she was Jace's mom. They had the same blond hair and features. Except Jace's eyes were golden. Gently, compassionately, she put her hand on Valentine's arm.

"You're hallucinating, honey," she soothed. "Come back to bed."

Obediently, almost like a lost puppy, Valentine's shoulders slumped and he followed her back inside, muttering, "Just like her."

I let out a breath of relief, silently thanking her as their footsteps echoed on the wooden floors upstairs.

Carrying Jace proved to be the hardest problem.

Football players were heavy enough, but a limp, unconscious one?

It was like swallowing ten bags of stones and then trying to run a five minute mile.

I gestured to Simon and together, we carried him to the car and laid him gently on the backseat, Simon wincing as Jace's blood stained the seat.

"Great," he mumbled.

I glared. "Just drive me home. My mom's working late today, so I'll take care of it from here."

…

**Jace**

Remember those fairy tales about how the princess would wake up to see the prince, standing in shining armor, before her, with the glory of defeating the evil witch? Those stories about how a wounded prince, on his way to heaven, would open his eyes to see glowing angels?

I'd never truly believed in angels, but that all changed.

I opened my eyes, wincing at a stinging pain in the back of my head that wouldn't go away. Above me was a fuzzy, glowing face, ringed with red curls and bright green eyes. The only things that were in focus were those eyes.

She was so beautiful, it took my breath away. I forgot about the nagging pain and all I was to touch her face, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

She was an angel.

I reached my hand up, to see if she was real, when a jabbing pain made me gasp and everything came into focus.

Clary crouched before me, with the most distraught look I'd ever seen. Something bloomed deep within me, to know that someone care this much for me. It was the most exquisite and wonderful feeling I'd ever felt, and it nearly brought me to tears.

She mistook my watering eyes as signs of pain. "Don't move, Jace," she soothed. "It'll hurt. Just lie still for a little while. You're tired, and in pain."

I turned my head, taking in my surroundings, and then shot up, howling in pain as my head throbbed. I leaned against Clary for support. "Where am I?"

"My house," she said, rubbing my back, easing the pain.

"Your…house?"

It was a kick in the gut to find out that I was in Clary's house. In her house. But it didn't add up. My last memory was of Valentine's arm swinging down and a pain I'd never felt before breaking out from my head, before I'd blacked out. And now, I was in the house of the girl of my dreams. It was impossible for me to have walked there…unless…

"How?"

"I went to your house to deliver homework, and found you, looking as if you were dead." She stared at me, those eyes reflecting horror and rage. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad, Jace? Why do you let him to that to you?"

That stuff was trivial. "Did he see you?"

My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear anything else. Please, I prayed. Say no.

"He did." My heart dropped to my knees, and the silence that followed was deafening. I never knew silence could be so loud.

"He thought I was someone else. He started calling me by my mom's name," Clary hurried on after a while.

I stared. Valentine never mentioned any woman's name. Never.

As if right on que, the door opened, and the woman I guessed to be Clary's mom, walked in. She looked just like Clary.

Jocelyn balked, and turned white, before swallowing. She stared at her daughter. "What the…"

"Mom," Clary started. "I can explain."

Jocelyn turned her piercing stare at me, and I felt cold all over. Pointing a shaky finger at me, her voice was as icy as the Artic winter wind as she said, "Get out."

I scrambled as fast as I could to my feet, hissing in pain as my bruises and scars burst open again. Clary cried out, reaching hand to aid me, but I shrugged her off. "I'll be fine," I promised her, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze. Then, after one last look at Clary, I closed the door behind me.

…

**Clary**

Mom's lips were thinned when I turned back to her, but mine had too, and I was now shaking with livid anger. She was shaking too.

"What the hell?" I screamed. "Didn't you see? He was in pain! We needed to help him!"

"I will not help a Wayland," she said, her voice low and absolute. She was so un-Jocelyn-like that I shivered. She knew who Jace was. And his dad knew who she was.

So where was the connection?

"Mom?"

"Stay away from Jace Wayland," she ordered, her voice monotonous and flat, yet menacing all at once. "Stay away from that boy."

**REVIEW! :D**

**dun dun dun…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Jace**

"Wayland! Head in the game!" Coach Lightwood thundered. I ducked and a second later, the ball nearly scraped my head while spiraling by. Yikes.

"What's wrong with you these days?" He asked, coming to conk me in the head.

_Motherfu__…_I hissed. "Watch it, Coach! I have a head injury."

"Oh? From what?"

"I fell down the stairs," I lied smoothly. Well, like the old saying goes, practice makes perfect, doesn't it?

Coach laughed. "Sorry bout that, buddy, but not slack this time. Championship's on Friday, and we're up against Coldwater. They're the toughest from past experience." His voice dropped a bit. Funny how when teachers lower their voices, they think they're speaking to you in private, when in reality, their voice is as loud as the boom created by an AK 47. "You're getting into Brown on your brawn, not your brain."

Gee, thanks Coach.

"I'll make you proud," I said.

He smiled. And blew the whistle, straight into my ear. If I wanted to be deaf, I would have asked, thank you very much. "Team! 200 pushups. Ready…down, up, down…"

No slacking indeed.

…

Clary was beneath me, her eyes glowing with desire as she hooked a finger under my shirt, her knuckles brushing my skin underneath, sending a shudder through me, from head to toe. Her hair, all red and sexy, sprayed out across my pillow. Reach up, she thrust her fingers into my hair and pulled me down, teasing, tasting, _biting._

I couldn't contain the animal growl that rose inside of me. Taking in a shuddering breath, I slowly started to unbutton her cardigan with shaky fingers, afraid she'd pull back. She let me, her eyes closing and her lips parting as I fumbled with the buttons until the cardigan fell away. Revealing her soft, glowing skin.

Hell, it was so tempting to just throw her against the wall and just kiss and fuck her without abandon. She drove every last hair of me crazy with lust and desire.

But another part of me also wanted to take it slow, to revel in this slow, pleasing ride. I'd never wanted anyone as much as I wanted her.

Somehow, my shirt had gotten off, and we were facing each other. Then she did something I'd never imagined in a million years: her hand slid down.

I gasped as she closed her hand around me, and swore, holding on to the sides of the bed as my knees threatened to buckle. Nothing had ever felt so good. _Nothing._

I blindly thrust my hands into her hair, panting heavily, and claimed her mouth in a rough, scorching kiss. She broke away, only to sink to her knees, staring up at me through lowered lashes, asking permission.

Holy shit, I could have died. Right then and there.

She leaned in, her sexy red curls wrapping around my ankles in wispy, silky strands. And everything dissolved.

Literally.

I opened my eyes to a world of darkness. The Real World, dammit. Swearing a blue streak, I swung out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to take care of a problem my dream had goddamn left behind.

…

**Clary**

So Mom had completely freaked me out, Jace had almost died, and his dad had freaked me out even worse than my mom did. Hmmm, what else could surprise me?

I take it as a compliment when people tell me I look like my mom, but not to the extent where we become twins. I mean, did I seriously look that old? With, heaven forbid, that many wrinkles?

God, I sure hope not.

Yeah, Valentine was really screwed up. Not surprisingly, considering the alcohol. But still, how'd he know my mom? She never mentioned him. Not a single bit.

I was pondering over this when Jace walked into Room 24. He gave me a barely there smile, the corner of his mouth tipping up. It wasn't his normal greeting (where he gives me a kiss, I should add) and my insides took a steep dive. Was he mad at me for a couple of nights before?

"Hi, Jace." I came out a little sharper than I'd meant it to be.

His mouth twisted. "Aren't we a little cold today."

"You're the one to talk," I shot back.

His eyebrows shot up and he raised his hands defensively. "I was going to thank you for helping me. You don't know how much it meant to me that you came. I owe you my life, Clary."

My mouth dropped a little. I didn't see that coming at all. "I forgive you," I said a little breathlessly.

"Forgive?" Jace smirked. "I didn't apologize. A bit awestruck by our star quarterback, I see."

"Oh, pshhhh," I said lamely. Then flinched inwardly at how much lamer it sounded once it came out. Why did everything sound better in your head?

"So you okay now?" I asked.

"Not too bad," he replied.

"But you're okay with your dad too?"  
>Jace nodded. "Valentine's like that. He'd hella bipolar. I think the alcohol is giving him memory loss. And besides, he's at the nearest whore house every weekend."<p>

"Funny how you call him Valentine."

"Dropped Father ever since he stopped being one." Jace sighed. "So long ago I can't even remember.

The air had taken on this sad, dreary feeling, and I didn't like it one bit. I wanted every moment with Jace to be happy. Not that it had been before but still.

"Sleep well?" I asked, trying for something else.

Jace choked. He suddenly turned very red, even his neck.

"Yeah, he muttered, sounding strained. He wouldn't look me in the eye.

Okay…maybe not the best question to ask.

He cleared his throat a couple of times and then finally met my eyes. Oh, how I loved them. Golden. They were pure, liquid gold.

"Hey, Clary. So. Homecoming game is on Friday, and it's supposed to be the most anticipated game in years. Coldwater verses Idris. You think you could come?"

Jace, in his football jersey, with his helmet, throwing the ball in a high arc through the air. Jace, dodging the opponents, running through the defense for a touchdown. Jace, sweating and victorious, tossing aside his helmet and running into the bleachers, straight for me, out of the billions of people there, kissing me in front of everyone…the fantasies could go on and on.

Oh hell, yes. I wanted to go.

"I'll be there," I smiled.

**Ahaha, Jace and his dreams…:P **

**REVIEW! Duddde, I can't believe that in 5 or 6 more chapters, this is gonna be over! :( so fast, man.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Clary**

The whole stadium was crowded, filled with people to the max. Some squeezed three to two seats, others sat in the sides on the stairs. Luckily, I'd come early enough to snag a good seat that got me a good view of the whole field, yet I was still close enough to see the players' faces.

If you think your school has spirit, wow, you'd be nothing compared to Idris. People had painted their faces completely blue and gold, some even their whole body. There were three guys who had _WARRIORS_ painted across their chests and they stood together to spell out the word. Horns blasted in my ear, pompoms of all colors were thrown into the air, cymbals clashing, megaphones blaring, sirens screaming, all on top of the continuous chanting of "War-ri-ors!" I think I'd gone deaf; I couldn't even hear my own voice.

The band struck up a tune, really surprising everyone since we could actually hear it above the noise. The football players began running out. At the lst one, the whole stadium leapt to their feet and _screamed_. The stadium shook. The sound was deafening, and the only word comprehensible was "Way-land! Way-land!"

Damn, Jace was popular.

He pumped his fist at the crowd and through his helmet, I saw him grin.

The other team streamed onto the field and the roar was considerably less. The players all began warming up, tossing the ball to each other. The whole time, my eyes were pinned on Jace.

I'd never really been wrapped up in football before, but this time, I was on my feet the whole game, shouting until I lost my voice and still I was shouting. Jace was right. It _was_ a close game. Everyone was on their feet, reacting as one, going berserk at a touchdown and screaming in rage at any advancements the other team made.

…

**Jace**

The forward came rushing at me, his beady eyes glittering with hatred. I scanned the field, drawing my arm back for an out-and-fly pass but Jonathan wasn't there yet. Two forwards came pounding toward me. Three. Right before they closed in, I let the ball fly.

The four-hundred-pounds liner barreled into me, crushing me to the ground, and as each forward landed on me, the wind got knocked out of my lungs.

Fucking Coldwater. Were they trying to kill me?

…

**Clary**

The whole stadium was so silent you could hear a pin drop. The referee jogged swiftly to the pile of players, and hauled each one off Jace. I held my breath, my heart beating rapidly. He lay on the ground, unmoving.

If Jace was down, Coldwater was sure to win.

Then he moved, flexed his fingers and staggered to his feet. The roar was deafening.

There were only seconds left on the clock.

…

**Jace**

I knew that during the last few seconds I should have been thinking of the game, but the only thought that came to mind was…so many people. It had to be the biggest turnout in football history for the Warriors – every seat filled, people squished in the aisles. My eyes searched for the girl I wanted to see the most, but in the sea of people, it was nearly impossible.

I couldn't find her. She promised she'd be here.

_Twenty__…__nineteen__…__eighteen__…_

I focused once more on the field, the seconds on the clock ticking away.

_Head__in__the__game,__Wayland._ A distant memory of Coach's voice.

I couldn't help it. I looked up one last time. And I saw her, eyes shining with anticipation and pride, and I knew that whatever happened, whether we won or not, she'd be proud of me.

That's all that mattered.

_…__eight__…__seven__…_

Her eyes were the only things I saw as the ball left my hands.

…

**Clary**

TOUCHDOWN!

…

**Jace**

Her eyes.

Green.

Beautiful.

Shining.

Proud.

Seeing me through my walls.

And I loved her for it.

…

**Clary**

The cheer went on and on, never ending, the roar the rumble of an earthquake. I was on my feet, laughing, cheering, pumping my fist along with everyone else. The Warriors eventually climbed off their dog pile and formed a line, slapping hands with the other team. As Jace staggered to his feet, the roar rose to an ultimate high. He slapped hands with the other team, then spun around, grinning into the crowd.

And then –

His eyes locked with mine. Out of all the people, everyone there, mine.

He pulled his helmet off, shook out his damp, sweaty hair, and then, grinning, pumped his hand with his helmet, pointing it straight at me. I flushed.

One by one, all the heads turned to look at me. I kept my eyes on Jace and he stared back at me, triumphant, happy, and proud. Who could resist such a smile?

The roar grew even louder than humanly possible.

With all the noise, I don't know how it was possible, but the world fell away like it always did with him. We smiled stupidly at each other, me from the bleachers, him from the field, caught up in the moment. I blushed, and looked down.

Meeting the icy cold glare of a blond cheerleader.

Jace's ex? Who knew.

Who cared?

And then, suddenly, as I turned around, he was there, right in front of me. Somehow, he'd pushed through the crowd. Or maybe the crowd had parted for him.

But he was right there. So close and still sweaty. I could see the drops of sweat beaded on his forehead and nose and neck. Every pair of eyes were riveted on us. And yet, I could tell that Jace saw none of them, his eyes a bright gold that were focused solely on me.

"Kiss me," he said.

And I did.

**Review.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Jace**

I guess I should have known that good things never last. But I thought this time it'd be different.

…

**Clary**

I waited for him to show up on Saturday, but it wasn't that much of a surprise when he didn't. Well, after winning the Championship, he did have a right to go wild and celebrate. Still, I waited a good forty-five minutes before gathering my books and quietly slipping out of The Institute.

Since Simon was busy with his own student, and who knew when he'd be done, I called my mom to come pick me up.  
>This was exactly why I wanted my car back. Here I am, a girl about to go to college, and I still need my parents to drive me everywhere.<p>

"Hey," Mom said, ten minutes later. "Student gone?"

"Yeah, J – she had an appointment last minute and forgot to tell me." I rolled my eyes in a _people-these-days_ way, ignoring Mom's probing stare.

"Alright," she said after a moment's pause. "Get in."

Jesus. Jace and my mom…I had to be more careful. Funny how both of their names started with J…

"You never mentioned your student's name."

I nearly jumped a foot in my seat. "Jasmine," I lied. "A junior at Idris High School. I'm tutoring her on AP Bio."

"Ah," my mom said, staring straight ahead. "Well, that's good. Bio was your best class."

"…yeah." Thank God the ride ended there. I scurried out of the seat, grabbed my books, and ran into the house, slamming my door as fast as I could, before flopping face-first onto my bed.

Close call.

Too close.

Taking deep breaths, I opened my eyes a bit, my eyes landing on the open page of my planner. Circled in red on upcoming week was _Jace__'__s__Final._

Ah, shit. I'd forgotten.

_Go__to__his__house._

HELL NO.

I mentally slapped myself. He-who-must-not-be-named was there.

Idris High School it was.

…

**Aline**

So. Her name was Clary.

I'd gotten that much out of him when he was sprawled on Sebastian's couch, wasted last night like everyone else that was there.

_Clary_.

What an ugly, disgusting name.

Well, it was about time to show her who really owned Jace.

…

**Clary**

Idris High School was a lot bigger than Kennedy High, my school. Personally, I liked Kennedy better.

From the looks of it, it was obvious that they hadn't finished celebrating their win yet. Banners and streamers still hung all over the place, and here and there, small cheers started and occasionally, horns blared along with them.

Simon, sitting behind the driver's wheel, gave me a little push. "Hurry it, Fray. Just find him and we'll get out of here."

I gathered up the books in my arms, straightened my shoulders, and holding my head high, started toward Idris's main doors. It was a bit intimidating walking into a rivalry school, even though I didn't go to Coldwater.

A few people gave me second glances, but most just brushed past me like I wasn't even there. I guess with a few thousand students, nobody could really tell who was who.

My eyes flickered from side to side, searching for him. God, where was he? I didn't want to be here longer than I had too.

I was almost ten feet away from him before I saw him, and he was so close I almost started laughing at how blind I was. His back was toward me, and he was surrounded by a group of friends, mostly all football players who were wearing their jerseys. As expected from the It crowd, except for a few of them (including Jace) they were dressed in the typical clothing – sagging jeans, ripped pants, gelled hair. The girls that mingled around them could have easily passed for strippers.

Ugh.

One girl stood way too close to Jace, and I felt an annoyed twitch. Jace was talking to one of his friends, and he hadn't noticed. I was about to call out his name when suddenly, I caught the eye of the girl.

So that's why she was so familiar. It was the girl from the football game.

The girl grabbed a fistful of Jace's shirt and reeled him into her.

She kissed him.

And Jace kissed her back.

…

**Jace**

Things happened way too fast. One second I was talking to Seb, and the next, Aline's lips were crashed onto mine. I hadn't felt those things on me since months ago, and it wasn't until a huge crash sounded behind me that jerked me to my senses.

I pushed away from her, disgusted, about to spit in her face. But she wasn't looking at me.

She was looking with satisfaction over my shoulder.

Oh fuck, no.

Please, no.

I spun around. And met Clary's shock-filled eyes. Her mouth had dropped open, and sprayed at her feet was a pile of books. Biology books.

My heart shattered as she turned around and ran as fast as she could, pushing through the crowds of people to get away from me, disappearing from my sight.

Someone said something, but it didn't register. All I could she was the books on the ground, and Clary's messy scrawl on a purple sticky note.

_Study__hard__Jace!__I__believe__in__you_

I was such a bastard. No better than my own father.

**OWWW HOLY SHIT. I BROKE ALL FIVE TOES ON MY LEFT FOOT. And im now in a cast, at home. I just had surgery and it _hurts_**

**Sighs…**

**Please review. It'll cheer me up a lot**


	13. Chapter 13

**Clary**

Screw him

Screw him and his fucking cheating ways.

I hated him, so much that hate couldn't possibly be a strong enough word.

I never wanted to see his sorry-assed face again, and I almost screamed in agony when that face never left my vision as I lay in bed, too tired to go to school, too tired to do anything. Time passed, but I lost track. It could have been hours, days, or weeks since I last saw him.

Rolling over to reach for another tissue, I stared blankly at the ceiling. Until a vibration startled me. Again.

Another text. Another phone call. Another message.

The first time he sent one, I broke down in a waterfall of tears. It felt as if life had left me, and it _hurt._

Like my heart had actually been ripped apart.

I guess that's why they're called _heartbreaks_.

…

**Jace**

I arrived in Central Park on Wednesday, hopes high, feeling as if my heart was made of glass.

Wimpy thing for a guy to say, I know. But it really did feel like jagged pieces of glass were pierced through it.

I scanned the whole place, and even jobbed around to make sure she wasn't just hiding from me.

Yeah, right. Who was I kidding?

I got in my car, my foot pressing hard on the accelerator as I zoomed toward the Institute.

I was a football player. I was a Warrior. We were undefeated. We never gave up. Never.

And when I found out she wasn't there either, I as sure as hell felt like it.

Giving up.

…

**Clary**

Hearts aren't meant to be broken. They're meant to be caressed and loved.

Was it even possible to piece back something if it was already broken beyond repair?

…

**Jace**

A tall, willowy figure walked down the street, red hair tucked neatly into a bun at the base of her neck.

My legs were already sore from running all the way from school (screw class), and my breathing was more than a pant. Yet somehow, I guess thanks to football training, I managed to put on an extra spurt of energy.

The woman turned at the sounds of my ragged breathing as I kneeled over in front of her, trying to catch my breath, and her eyes flew wide. She took a step back, as if I'd pushed her.

"You."

I was too breathless to reply. God, my lungs felt like they were going to burst.

"Was it you who broke my daughter's heart?"

I nodded. Her sharp intake of breath made me flinch, and I prepared myself for the impact of a stinging slap across my cheek. It never came.

"Could..you tell her…that…I'm…sorry?" I asked between pants.

Her mouth set in a straight line. "That's all?"

How could I explain?

It took a while for the words to get out, and by that time, I was gesturing wildly with my hands.

"No! Of course not! It's just that nothing was what it seemed. I didn't kiss her. She kissed _me_, and she made sure that Clary saw. I pushed away but she didn't see me do that since I wasn't facing her and…" My voice died off as I met her withering glare.

"Your excuses mean nothing. If you really cared about Clary, you'd have broken it off first thing with the other girl. You wouldn't have kept her in the dark, and you wouldn't have been afraid to show her to your friends. You wouldn't have been afraid of the other girl hurting her, because you'd have been there to protect her. Oh no, don't hang your head like that. Tell me, did you ever take Clary seriously?"

Clary helping me with Biology. Kissing Clary. Thinking of Clary at night on my bed. The overpowering urge to make her happy.

"Yes."

"Did you take her trust and her kindness for granted?"

Clary ever so patient with me. Seeing my wounds, crying for me. Never judging me for it. Never pestering or forcing me to tell her who did it. And most importantly, something I'll never forget, coming into my house and dragging me out that night she saved my life.

And what had I ever done to her?

Oh, that's right. Break her heart.

I guess…I guess I did take her kindness for granted.

"Yes," I said softly, after a pause. "I did."

I dared to look at Mrs. Fray's face. She looked surprised.

"Tell me – Jace, is it? – how you guys met. I did well to make sure that she grew up on the opposite side of town as you, and yet, you still manage to meet her, and break her heart."

I winced at those words. If only she could stop saying them – but who was I to tell her to stop.

"It was at the Institute," I said.

Mrs. Fray's eyebrows furrowed together. "You're mentally retarded?"

Ugh. Dammit. "No. I was failing Biology, and I needed a tutor. My teacher suggested the Institute, and I got paired with Clary."

She pursed her lips. "Biology _was_her forte, besides drawing, that is."

"Why do you hate me?" The words were out before I could stop them.

We stared at each other for a moment, my shock reflected in her eyes.

Then she sighed. "Sit down, if you have a minute. It's a long story."

…

**Clary**

Why hadn't I followed the rules?

He'd turned out to be a scum. A cheater. A player. Just like the rest.

Or was he? Was it he who kissed her, or the opposite?

But in the end, did it really matter?

Because if he'd loved me, there was no way in hell she'd still be here.

There had to be an end to this pain. There had to be. And then – I got it. For the first time in days, I sat up in bed and shouted as loud as I could.

I heard Mom's thudding footsteps, and the door burst open.

"I need my college papers," I cleared my throat; it was hoarse from crying.

Mom stared.

"I'm transferring to the School of the Arts."

**One word. Review.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the late updates last week. This one is extra long to make it up(:**

**Jace**

"Can you get the phone, Jace?" Mom hollered through the wall. "My hands are full with the laundry."

"Sure thing." I dragged myself to the kitchen, leaned against the counter, and grabbed the phone. Probably a commercial, like always. "No, we don't want to buy it," I snarled automatically.

There was a moment of hesitation on the other line. "Could I speak to Jace Wayland please?" A queer, low voice said. It was low, but not manly low, yet it was obviously not a woman.

"This is he." And just who the hell are you?

The other person breathed out a breath of relief, and a familiar voice came on. "Oh, good. It's you. I thought it was your father."

Jocelyn Fray.

My eyebrows flew up. For her to call my house must've taken a lot of courage, considering what she told me.

"You have good grammar, by the way," she said.

I laughed. "Thanks."

"Who's that?" Mom poked her head around the wall.

Oh, crap. "My girlfriend," I lied, using the first instinct that came to mind. Then regretted it. It hurt to say those words.

My mom nodded understandingly and she backed away. I could bet that her ear was pressed against the wall, listening in. I raised the phone to my ear again. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Did you just call me your girlfriend?" Jocelyn laughed.

My ears burned. "What'd you call for?" I mumbled.

Her laughter faded. "It's about Clary."

My pulse raced. "Is she alright?"

A pause. "She's decided to transfer to the School of the Arts."

Suddenly, I felt dizzy. The phone hit the ground, which came rushing up to me.

I couldn't believe it. She was transferring to a school hundreds of miles away from me?

Mom rushed in to find me slumped on the ground, staring blankly at the brown cabinets. I was too tired to yell at her for secretly listening. She knelt next to me, murmuring, "It's just a girl, Jace. You should know. There's so many others."

Just a girl. How many times had I said that to myself already?

"But I don't want them. I only want Clary."

Mom stiffened slightly. I guess she'd never expected me to say that. Months ago, neither would I.

"Why does it hurt this much?" My voice cracked. "If she's just a girl, why does it hurt _this__damn__much?_"

There was such a pained expression on her face that my throat closed up.

I swallowed thickly, my throat burning. I hadn't cried since I was a little boy.

"Oh, Jace," she sighed. "This is what love feels like."

Love?

This was what love felt like?

All those times with Clary came rushing into my mind. How she made me feel, how jumbled my thoughts were when I was near her, how I felt like I could die happy when kissing her. Just being by her made me happy.

That was love, wasn't it?

But Valentine, he'd never loved Mom. That was why this was what love felt like to her. Loving someone who would never love her back.

My eye twitched, and I swiped it. I heard my mom catch her breath.  
>"It's just an itch." I swore inwardly. <em>My<em>_voice._

Mom wrapped her arms around me, hesitantly at first, and when I didn't resist, pulled me to her chest, like the old days after Valentine had beat me. I felt something wet drop in my hair, and I knew she was crying.

My throat burned like hell. My eyes stung.

And finally, after being bottled up for years, I cried. For Clary, for my cowardness of Valentine, and for my mom.

…

**Clary**

Downstairs the phone was ringing nonstop. I waited for my mom to pick it up, but it kept on blasting away. Growling, I stomped down the stairs, ready to punch a hole in the wall. As I approached it, it suddenly switched to message.

"Clary."

I froze, and time stood still. Just hearing his voice made me want to sink to the floor and cry. It was like rubbing salt on a bloody wound. Stings like hell.

My hand slid over the delete button.

"Your mom told me you were transferring to the School of the Arts. I'm not calling to stop you from going. I'm calling to tell you that if you're transferring, then I am too, even if I can't draw a straight line without a ruler. You can run, but I'm not letting you go, and I'm never going to. I'll fight for you, Clary. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'm going to be the man by your side, no matter what it takes, or what I have to give up." He took a deep breath. It seemed like he was going to hang up, but then he spoke again, and it made my knees shake. "I love you, Clary."

A teardrop landed on the phone, but I didn't bother wiping it away, and watched it slide down the cord until my vision blurred.

"A man like that only comes once in a lifetime." I didn't realize that my mom was there until she spoke. "Sometimes he doesn't even come at all."

Hastily, I swiped my hand over my eyes, and snorted on accident.

"Do you know why I didn't want you near him?" She didn't wait for my response, but instead continued. "It was because his father broke my heart, and I was afraid he was going to break yours."

My mom and Valentine?

"You don't mean that drunk bastard, do you?"

She chuckled slightly. "He wasn't always drunk. We were high school sweethearts, and all the way through college. Everyone thought that we'd get married after graduation. I did too." She wrung her wrists, looking at her lap. "Then on our sixth anniversary, I found him in bed, with my best friend, Celine."

My eyes popped out, and I forgot all about my own pain. Compared to my mom's tragedy, well, mine was just so petty.

"He drank too much alcohol, and couldn't hold his liquor. He thought I was her. He apologized so many times; he even went down on his knees and begged. He even cried. But I didn't. I couldn't forgive him. And I was afraid that Jace was like his father, and I didn't want you to suffer." She finally looked up at me. "He wasn't always like this, you know. He used to be kind."

"Do you still love him?" I asked.

She bit her lip. "Love isn't the word for it, but there's always a part of me that continues to care for him. You never forget your first love."

I wrapped my arms around my mom, hugging her. She returned it, breathing in shakily. I thought about her, and how much pain she must have been through. I couldn't imagine Valentine swallowing his pride and apologizing. But then, I'd never expected Jace to give up his dream just for me.

Transferring for me. Forcing himself to draw so he could be by my side.

People like that didn't come in a package waiting at your front door. To meet someone like him…

I ran out the door before my mom could say "What the –"

…

**Jace**

A leaf fell on my head. The same bench. The spot of our first kiss.

I'd come to say goodbye. Goodbye to Clary, goodbye to us, goodbye to all the good times we'd had.

I loved her, and I knew I always would. I couldn't let it go, but this was the best I could do.

Giving up my emotions.

I needed to pack them away again, so when I see her again, I wouldn't break. Cause if I saw her right now, I knew I would.

I got up from the bench. It was time to prepare for my new life.

Drawing.

…

**Clary**

Something told me to keep running. Running where, I didn't know, until the green trees of Central Park came into view. And I saw him, walking away from a bench, his back toward me.

I ran even harder. I couldn't let him go this time. There were things left unsaid that needed to be said.

I thought he'd turn around at the sound of my thudding footsteps, but he just moved aside, as if I was a random jogger.

But I wasn't.

I grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. He spun around, and his lips parted. His eyes were the brightest I'd ever seen them. I stood before him, gasping for air.

And then, he kissed me. Soft and lingering, sad and sorrowful. As if he thought I was going to run away any second. The familiar tint of apples was on my lips again.

He pulled back, a look of regret and self-loathing on his face. "Sorry," he muttered roughly, ducking his head, refusing to look me in the eye.

"I got your message," I said nervously.

"Did you?" His voice was hollow, like he was robotic and devoid of any emotions. I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat.

"I've decided to stay with Brown."

His head snapped up, his eyes finally meeting mine with disbelief and astonishment. And brighter than all, hope.

His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. In the end, no words needed to be said. He wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my hair, hugging me tight and taking deep, shuddering breaths.

After a while, I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him. He sniffed.

Jace? Crying?

I tried pulling back, but he didn't budge.

"I'm not crying." His voice was muffled by my hair. "Your hair's just itchy."

"Hey!"

He squeezed me lightly.

I finally wrested out of his grip and stood facing him. His eyes were a bit sparkly. He tried to glare indignantly, and I smiled inwardly.

"I missed you, Clary," he said softly, the playful glare washing away. "More than you'll ever know."

I stared at him for a long time, and he returned it, calm and clear. No secrets hidden. The truth was plain in his eyes. He loved me.

Who cared about Aline?

I wanted to say _I__missed__you__more.__I__don__'__t__want__to__leave__you__again.__I__don__'__t__want__you__to__be__hurt__like__that__again._

Instead what I said was, "I'm staying under one condition: you let me deal with your dad."

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**the next chapter's the last chapter :'(**


	15. Chapter 15

**The last chapter! Wow, this story went by fast… **

**I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it and reading your reviews(:**

**Epilogue**

**Clary**

In the end, I didn't have to deal with Valentine. Nobody did.

The alcohol took him one night while he was at home. Jace was over at my house, where we were going over our shopping list for Brown, when we got the call. He picked up the phone, turned white, and ran out without telling me why.

Later I found out he'd rushed straight to the hospital, staying by his father's side the whole night while the doctors worked to resuscitate him. He did love his father after all, even after all those years of abuse.

The morning after Valentine regained conscious, my mom got a call. It was from Celine. Asking my mom if she could come and see him. To grant a dying man's last wish.

Nothing would have stopped her from going.

The room he was in was bare.

He was hooked up to life-supporting machines, with tubes going into his nose, his skin. The machine regularly beeped. Celine saw us, standing by the doorway, and I could tell as the years of betrayal and guilt wash away in her eyes. My mom didn't seem to be angry at seeing her former best friend for the first time in almost two decades.

It's like what they always say: in the face of death, nothing else matters.

We walked to Valentine's side, and he looked younger, more peaceful; the angry, hacked lines in his face were smoothened out.

Jace sat in a chair by the side. His face, gaunt and worried, looked tired from the lack of sleep. His eyes tracked his mom's and my mom's every movement, and I knew then that somehow, he'd known the truth long before I had.

Celine gently touched Valentine's face. "Honey," she said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. No jealously whatsoever that his last wish had been his former love. "Jocelyn's here."

At first, nothing happened. The air was still, as we all held our breaths. Then Valentine's head shifted a fraction, and his eyes opened, landing on Mom's face. He looked at her for a long time, and she at him, and feebly, he tried lifting his hand.

After a pause, Mom covered his bony fingers with hers.

But by then, his eyes were already glazed. He was already gone.

The machine stopped beeping.

I looked at Jace. His head was in his hands.

In an act of genuine compassion, my mom reached out to Celine, and they hugged.

Celine cried for the loss of her husband, Mom cried for the loss of her first love, and Jace cried for the loss of his father.

…

As for me and Jace, we drove off to Brown together. He recovered from his loss, although a part of him will never fully heal, and returned to being his old, sarcastic self. My Jace.

But who knows what will happen? After all, we're only college freshmen. A lot can happen in four years, like Mom and Valentine's story, but something tells me we won't follow that path. And if anything did happen, we'd overcome it together.

One thing is certain though: even though I might have to occasionally tutor Jace again, I will never be off limits to him anymore.

**THE END**

**So…how was it? Did you like the story? The best parts? The worst parts? Anything you would have liked to see instead of what had happened? Sad that it's over?**

**And last but not least…REVIEW.**


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